A la Claire Fontaine
by myBrandyAlexander
Summary: Oneshot. A sweet snapshot of the Malfoy household one night. Light and romantic containing the French lullaby title Please R & R!


A songfic oneshot – my first songfic

**A Dramione oneshot – I don't know if you would call it a songfic, but it contains a song. It is a French lullaby called "A la Claire Fontaine" and I think there are quite a few versions with different lyrics, so not quite sure who wrote these ones. For anyone who has seen The Painted Veil, it is the song near the end. **

_À la Claire Fontaine_

"Mummy, do I have to go to bed now? You said I was a big boy now, and big boys don't go to bed until very late," Flynn whined, tugging at the bottom of his mother's robe as she drew the curtains across the tall windows.

Bending down to scoop him up in her arms, Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek gently. "But it is very late – look, it is all dark outside," and pulled a part of the curtain back again.

"I can't see outside, I can only see you and me," Flynn stated solemnly as he contemplated their reflections. He watched as his mummy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and felt her curls tickling his cheeks. He moved a hand up to twirl a lock in his fingers, and he marvelled, as always, at the softness of it. No wonder Daddy always did it.

"You'll just have to take my word for it, buster. Come on, let's get you into bed." Hermione carried Flynn over to his bed and with one hand, pulled back the bedspread, which was covered in snitches and broomsticks. Flynn was definitely his father's son. She lay Flynn down, but his arms would not relinquish their hold around his mother's neck, so she sat down with him on the edge of his bed.

"Can you stay with me tonight, Mummy? Lucy and I get lonely at night," Flynn whispered into his mother's ear. Lucy was his teddy bear his grandmother had given him when he was born. Well, that was what his Mummy had told him. He couldn't remember back that far. He let go of her neck slightly and looked at his Mummy with that look she could never resist – the same one Daddy always used on her – his grey eyes staring at her brown ones imploringly.

"What about Daddy? Wouldn't he get lonely if I stayed with you?" Hermione smiled knowingly as she saw Draco's beseeching look so well emulated on their son's face.

"But you _always_ stay with Daddy! Aren't I just as special as Daddy?"

"You are just as special; if not more, buster." Flynn smiled at his mother and lay back in his bed, his dark brown hair making a striking contrast with the squashy white pillows.

"So you'll stay then?" He asked hopefully, wrapping Lucy in his arms and shuffling over so there was sufficient room for Hermione to lie down next to him.

"Maybe for a little while then," Hermione complied – Flynn knew she could never resist his Daddy's look – and slipped off her shoes and squiggled under the doona. Flynn's arms again wrapped themselves around her, and he buried his head into her neck, inhaling her smell. His Mummy always smelt so good, not like Aunty Ginny or Grandmamma who always smelt too sweet for his liking.

"Mummy," Flynn whispered after a few moments of silence.

"That's me."

"I know its you, silly! I want to ask you a question."

"What's your question?" Hermione mumbled drowsily; it was actually quite late and she had had a long day at the Ministry, not to mention this morning activities…

"Can you sing me a song? The pretty one?"

"À la Claire Fontaine?"

"Yeah, that one. Can you sing it to me?" Hermione extracted herself from Flynn's iron hold on her, and sat up, leaning against the headboard.

"Sure thing, buster."

Hermione took a deep breath and started singing:

_À la claire fontaine_

_M'en allant promener_

_J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle_

_Que je m'y suis baignée_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

_Sous les feuilles d'un chêne_

_Je me suis fait sécher_

_Sur la plus haute branche_

_Le rossignol chantait_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

_Chante, rossignol, chante_

_Toi qui as le cœur gai_

_Tu as le cœur à rire_

_Moi je l'ai à pleurer_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

_J'ai perdu mon ami_

_Sans l'avoir mérité_

_Pour un bouquet de roses_

_Que je lui refusais_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

_Je voudrais que la rose_

_Fût encore au rosier,_

_Et que mon dulce ami_

_Fût encore à m'aimer_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

Hermione's sweet voice softened on the last syllable, drawing it out as is she were reluctant to stop singing. She remember her own mother singing this to her when she was Flynn's age, an age when witches and wizards and magic only belonged in her fairy books.

Neither noticed the shadow shifting slightly near the door of the bedroom, nor the creak in the floorboards.

"Mummy your singing is so pretty. Could you tell me what it means again? I can't remember…" 

Stroking his hair lightly, Hermione told him the English version.

"It goes something like this: 'At the clear fountain, while I was strolling by, I found the water so nice that I went in to bathe.' That's the first verse," Hermione explained, "and the chorus means, 'So long I've been loving you, I will never forget you.'"

"You won't ever forget me, will you, Mummy?" asked Flynn with a serious tone.

"Never, my darling. Would like to know the rest of the verses?"

"Yes please Mummy."

"Okay, where was I?" Hermione quickly hummed the French words under her breathe too remind herself of what came next.

"'Under an oak tree, I dried myself. On the highest branch, a nightingale was singing. Sing nightingale, sing, your heart is so happy. Your heart feels like laughing, mine feels like weeping.

I lost my beloved, without deserving it, for a bunch of roses, that I denied her.

I wanted the rose to be still on the bush, and my sweet beloved to be still loving me.'"

"It sounds sad, Mummy. Are you sad?" Flynn asked worriedly.

"No, darling, I'm not sad. Remember, it's just a song, a pretty song – a lullaby. And Daddy's still right here, isn't he, _Draco_," Hermione spoke pointedly into the shadows; she had after all noticed him standing there.

"Daddy! Daddy! Come over here!"

"Please," Draco reminded his son as he drew nearer to the bed, and threw a quick smile at Hermione, who was smirking at him.

"Please, Daddy," Flynn corrected, but Draco was already half squashing him on the bed. He and Hermione situated themselves on either side of Flynn, who was overjoyed that _both_ his parents were staying with him. His eyes drooped, and a big goofy smile showed his contentedness.

Draco and Hermione lay there for a while, until they could hear somnolent breaths, and ever so carefully, lest they should wake him, they got up off the bed and after placing Lucy back in Flynn's arms, they tiptoed out of his bedroom and shut the door gently behind them.

With his arms draped around her shoulders, Draco led Hermione – who had almost fallen asleep in Flynn's bed too – along the corridor to their bedroom.

They snuggled into their even bigger bed and Draco turned out the lights with a flick of his wand.

"Night," Hermione murmured as she felt Draco's much stronger arms wrap themselves around her waist, and, much like Flynn had done, buried his face in her neck.

"Night. I love you," he whispered back. No matter how tired she was, Hermione smiled happily; those words never became old.

"I love you too."

**A/N – Please tell me what you think of this! I originally made the story sad (let's just say the lyrics of the song were more relevant), but I'm a sucker for happy endings, so I had to change it. If anyone would like to read the other version, please tell me! **


End file.
